Live Long
by Marauder-In-Disguise
Summary: Tuvok has some time for some much needed reflection...


**A/N This is the fourth in my 'Pathways' inspired mini series wherein our favourite crew members meet faces from the past and chew over their time in the Delta Quadrant. The other three are 'A Man of Value', 'The Real Sandrine's' and 'Vulcan Tea and Blackjack'. You don't need to have read any of the others – this is standalone. **

**Disclaimer: 'Pathways' belongs to Jeri Taylor. As for the rest, if I owned them, there would have been a very different ending...**

_A light heart lives long_

_**William Shakespeare**_

It came as no surprise to Tuvok that, on his first morning back on Vulcan, the earliest tendrils of the rising sun were enough to stir him to consciousness. Tired as he was, he impulsively rolled from his bed and moved to watch the day come alive. T'Khut, its familiar presence comforting, hung in the sky, burning red and amber. The previous night, when the transport from Earth had arrived, it had been only a half crescent but in the emerging light of day, it was round and full. Tuvok gazed steadily at it; he had of course shared, in his own way, the joy of his shipmates in returning to Earth but he had also been conscious of the fact that _he_ was not home. It was a full three months later that he had returned to Vulcan and only now, reacquainting himself with the way that the sister planet looked in the sky, did he truly feel that he was home. He allowed himself to enjoy the feel of the warm air on his skin for just a moment, savouring the memory of so many mornings when he had stood like this, and then left the bedroom quietly, so as not to wake T'Pel.

The house was quiet, his two youngest sons evidently not yet free from the habit of sleeping late. Once, Tuvok would have been disconcerted at such an attitude but he knew better now. He still occasionally thought about the day of Elieth's birth, when he had tried to pass on the responsibility of parenthood to the Temple, believing himself a failure. It had taken a long time but he had since accepted that there was only so much one could do to teach someone before they had to learn the lessons by themselves. _Voyager_ had shown him that; the extended period of time, with a group of people far younger and more naïve than him, who also lacked the great degree of control that he had, was a learning curve for the Vulcan. They had not always been right, but they had survived and so had he. Captain Janeway had once told him to 'lighten up'. She probably had not noticed but, over the years, he'd done exactly as she had suggested.

In the kitchen, he prepared himself some spice tea and lit one of the sticks of incense that T'Pel kept for occasions when they had visitors. He watched the incense burning, breathing in the scent mingled with the fresh air that crept in through the open window; he'd burned incense on _Voyager_ but it never smelt quite the same within the sterile confines of the ship. It felt more real, stood in the kitchen. Tuvok turned to put his cup on the table and only then saw the smooth, black tabletop that his family prized so much. He lightly ran his fingers over the green veins, the mere feel of the surface taking him unbidden to memories of his parents and his father in particular. Having lost his mother earlier, on his first tour of duty under Captain Janeway, his father had died during his time in the Delta Quadrant. Tuvok did not feel regret, but he often found himself wondering if his last meeting with his father, before he joined Chakotay's Maquis faction, had been enough to convey to the old man the level of respect and admiration that he held for him. He always felt that he and his father had shared a connection that went beyond that of father and son and it was that connection that he relied upon when troubled with the thought that until he had been pronounced missing, presumed dead, his father had not been showing any sign of infirmity or illness. Terran literature often discussed the notion of the 'broken heart' but it was not until T'Pel had told him of his father's death that he had even contemplated the existence of such a thing.

"Father?"

The soft voice was quizzical but warm. He looked up slowly and found himself looking into the eyes of his only daughter and the only member of his family that he had yet to be reunited with following his return to the Alpha Quadrant. T'Pel, Sek, Varith and Elieth had all traveled to Earth within a week of _Voyager_'s landing and stayed for long enough to ensure that the cure for his newly diagnosed illness was working correctly. Sek had then taken his younger brothers home, whilst T'Pel stayed with her husband through all the debriefings, ceremonies and parties. Asil had been studying at the Temple of Amonak and not been permitted to leave to see her father.

"Asil," he stood quickly, "Are you well?"

"Quite," she stepped forwards, placing the bag she was carrying neatly under the table, "And you, father? Sek tells me that the mind meld was a success."

"It was," he nodded, stepping forwards to meet her, "It is good to see you again, Asil."

"And you, Father. I was greatly concerned for your wellbeing."

As one, they raised their hands and pressed them briefly together, palm flat against palm. A spark of warmth, over before it had even begun, seemed to wriggle itself into Tuvok's mind. His eyes searched Asil's face, taking in every detail of the young woman that stood before him, only a child the last time he had seen her. She looked so much like her mother that it could have been T'Pel gazing back at him. It was only when he looked properly at her eyes that he knew it was the same girl he had left behind; they had always been a mirror image of his, and she was the only one of his children who shared them. He had always believed that looking at Asil was like meeting the eye of his father again, and now she was grown and the old man was gone, that belief seemed to have a particular poignancy.

Tuvok suddenly became aware that he had been looking at his daughter for a long time, and he pulled away quickly.

"Forgive me Asil. I –"

"I understand, Father. I have changed. It is only natural that you should be interested as to how I have done so. You have changed also."

"I am older now. You remember a younger man."

He took a sip from his tea and indicated that she should take a seat. When she sat, he noticed that the rays of light had begun their assault on the kitchen and that they caught in her raven dark hair. Her pale brown skin, just like her brothers, seemed to only glow with added warmth in the creeping light of the day. She shone. He noted that she was, by all accounts, rather beautiful.

"I do not believe that you seem much older to me than when I last saw you. You have changed in a different way."

"In what other way could I have changed?"

"Much has happened to you. You look like you know things."

"That is an illogical statement, Asil; I have always 'known things'."

"On the contrary," she leaned forwards, "It is most logical. You now look like you know things that you did not want to learn."

"I do not believe that I understand what you are saying, Asil."

The tiny sigh that she allowed herself to release caught Tuvok off guard; it was a gesture so like his own, the one sign he would ever give that something was not to his liking. The fact that she had picked it up despite his absence perplexed him slightly but he avoided the issue and focused on her words.

"What I mean, Father, is that you have experienced things that you would not have expected. Am I correct?"

"Your perception is flawless, Asil," he nodded slightly, "You have evidently applied yourself to your studies more successfully than your brothers."

"It is nothing to do with my studies, Father. I have simply noticed that you are acting in much the same way as when you returned from the desert."

"You were four years old when I went to Seyala," Tuvok said simply. He did not want to point out that Asil's memory was less than reliable for that time in her life but perhaps she would accept his point with no debate. He was wrong.

"Young as I was, I remember. There is something about you that-"

"Asil, it is most illogical to make that assertion. There cannot be an unidentifiable 'something' that makes me appear any differently to normal."

She did not stir under his gaze, but her own look was not defiant. She appeared to listen to him with nothing but respect but as soon as she began to speak, Tuvok knew that he was beaten.

"Father, I have recently been studying the later writings of Sarek, which I know some believe to be worthless because of the extent of his mental illness. I however have found them to be more honest and more illuminating than his early work. He claims that Vulcans can learn from humans, to the extent that humans and other races still accept that there are some aspects of humanity that cannot be described in a logical way. We as a race are still able to be affected by random events in a way that we will never be able to communicate effectively. It is with this in mind that I can make a comment about your appearance to that extent."

She spoke slowly and clearly, betraying a mind that was used to debate and discussion. T'Pel had in no way been incorrect when she filled him in on their youngest child's scholarly prowess. He reflected that should she decide to apply to Starfleet at any time, she would pass the entrance exam with better marks than his own. Should she pursue her current track of spiritual and academic study, she could easily become a professor at the Academy of Vulcan or a teacher at the Temple. Tuvok had missed so much of her life, so many of the things that he considered important in the bonding process with the child that at that moment he vowed to himself to that he wouldn't miss any more.

"I see that you have far more sensible ideals than your brothers," he nodded, "You remind me very much of Kes. She was my pupil on _Voyager_ and as fascinated as you with spiritual and academic instruction."

"The Ocampa? Sek mentioned her. Tell me about the Ocampa, Father."

"They are a race of children, who only live until they are nine years of age. It was to protect them that we ended up stranded."

"A decision that I suspect the majority of the crew had little to do with," she interjected, rising to pour herself a cup of tea from the pot he had prepared.

"Indeed, although I believe that had we been given the choice, most of us would have made the same decision."

"A reassurance I am sure the captain would appreciate."

"It is a difficult subject. I know that Captain Janeway felt guilt in what she did, because the first thing she did was promise me personally that she would get me home to you."

"She did not understand that you did not need such assurance?" Asil leaned forwards.

As he considered her query, he found his hands running unconsciously over the black marble. It was with a jolt that he suddenly realised Asil was doing the same thing with a single fingertip. The extent that his daughter appeared to resemble him in mannerisms and gestures was intriguing, especially as she had spent the least amount of time with him. He made a note to talk to T'Pel about it.

"Actually, I think that in general the crew of _Voyager _was more inclined to respect the ways of Vulcans, and myself in particular, than on any other ship I have served. It was – comfortable. Apart from Mister Neelix of course," he added as an afterthought.

"Neelix? An unusual name."

"He was an unusual man. A Talaxian and one of the few not to understand the extent of the differences between Vulcans and other races. It was his mission to make me smile. Needless to say, he did not succeed."

Asil looked up from the careful pattern she was tracing on the table, "Did _you_ succeed in avoiding him?"

Ignoring what could almost be described as a trace of amusement in her voice, he shook his head.

"I did not attempt such a move. In hindsight, I consider Mister Neelix to be a close friend."

"I told that you had changed, Father. I do not believe you would ever have accepted the company of such an individual before."

"You are correct, in that respect. _Voyager _made me question many of the values that I previously held firm."

"Such as?"

Tuvok was acutely aware that he was telling his daughter more than he had ever told even T'Pel but something about the combination of the morning heat, the feel of the table beneath his hands and the soft gaze of Asil's intelligent eyes made him feel particularly reflective. She wanted to know about him, to try and get to know the man that she only had childhood memories of. He had no right, or inclination, to deny her that knowledge and he had to admit it, it was agreeable to slow down and think for a while. Starfleet debriefings were intensive and thorough but they left little time for personal reflection.

"I had ill conceived preconceptions about the Maquis, for example, that I later discovered to be unjust and untrue. In fact, many of them are honourable individuals who have suffered great hardships and did not join the Maquis lightly. I have a great respect for them."

"There was no hostility, when they discovered your true purpose on their ship?"

"There was some and justifiably so. Commander Chakotay worked hard to disguise his own anger but I was uncomfortable in his presence for a long while."

She seemed to consider this for a long time, far longer than it had taken her to understand him before. For the first time, he saw the child and not the intelligent young woman and he realised that although she could discuss the works of Sarek, there were some things that she would only understand by spending time with other races and peoples. That lack of extended contact with others was evident on her face as she considered the extent that her father professed to respect the Maquis, a dangerous and bloodthirsty group of mercenaries. Tuvok watched with interest as her mind worked the thought over; she may have looked like her mother but he could only see his father on her face. At that minute, he knew why she seemed to mirror so many of his own gestures; she had spent so much time with her grandfather before he died. It was gratifying to know that, in his absence, Asil had benefited from the presence of the old man and to such an extent that she imitated him as well as his own son had learnt to do.

"I believe I understand, Father," she said eventually, the self assured look back on her face, "But you did not have such trouble the entire time?"

"I did not. If I had the opportunity to refuse the undercover mission, in the knowledge of what it would become, I would not do so. It was one of the most illuminating opportunities that I have ever experienced. Any disregard I once held for humans was only truly extinguished on _Voyager_."

"Grandfather told me that you never believed you could live with them."

"Indeed. Thankfully, I was wrong."

T'Pel chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. She raised a hand and gently touched his own, extended towards her almost reflexively. He looked back at Asil; the presence of the two women was more calming than even the aftermath of his mind meld with Sek and he corrected the thought that he had that morning; it was _then_, sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea, surrounded by family, that he was home. There was so much to look forwards to that he hadn't even considered. With T'Pel there was so much to catch up on and with Asil, and his sons, he had so much to learn.

Later, when he had the chance to replay the early morning conversation, it struck Tuvok that it had never before occurred to him the sheer strength of the bonds that he had nurtured on _Voyager_. He would never have believed that he would ever find himself defending the Maquis or Neelix. He had gone onto the ship with one friend, in the form of Kathryn Janeway, and perfectly content with the company that one friend could provide. He had never been comfortable in the forging of friendships and the fact that he could count an over zealous Talaxian and an ex Maquis commander as friends of sorts was testament to the fact that he had indeed learnt to "lighten up." Asil was right; _Voyager _had changed him, and it was certainly for the better. His children would benefit from that ability to let some things go, perhaps more than even himself and, for the first time, he relented during his meditation and offered silent thanks for the chance he had been given seven years previously. It was most illogical and he knew it.

But he did not care.


End file.
